


Payback is a Bitch, but Revenge is Sweet II: The Vixen Remix

by Selah Grace (ohselah)



Series: Sweet Revenge [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Bloodplay, Cunnilingus, Double Penetration, F/F, F/M, Female Harry Potter, Gender or Sex Swap, Genderbending, Rape/Non-con Elements, Revenge Sex, Rimming, Sex Toys, Voyeurism, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-11 00:30:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7867984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohselah/pseuds/Selah%20Grace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pansy decides to get revenge on Harry for all of the trouble that Harry has caused in Draco’s life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Payback is a Bitch, but Revenge is Sweet II: The Vixen Remix

Heavy eyelids opened and revealed to glazed emerald green eyes, a dark room. Immediately, the raven-haired boy panicked, jerking forward forcefully—before realizing that he had been chained up the wall. Harry made an incoherent noise in the back of his throat and shivered, feeling his nipples tighten unbearably. Blinking in surprise, Harry took a quick glance down at his chest—and _screamed_ … in what was _definitely not_ his voice. Instead of his flat, toned chest, there were two _lumps_ there—two lumps that were not there the day before—and something else felt _different_ about him—well, _besides_ the fact that he wanted to cry over something as minuscule as not having the muscled chest that he had worked so hard with Quidditch to achieve. "What the _hell_ is going on here?" Harry whispered to himself softly, and he nearly cried at his voice, which sounded so soft, weak and feminine.  
  
"That's a very good question, Potter…" A harsh, familiar voice flowed to his ears, and Harry looked up in surprise. _Parkinson?_ Parkinson _did this to me?_ Harry thought, and he growled quietly in contempt. Parkinson's lips curled into a smirk and she crossed her arms over her chest. "And, I believe that I can answer it. Well, for one thing… For the remainder of this week, the Wizarding World will not see their precious 'saviour', because he will be _here_ , serving his punishment with me." Parkinson offered the brunet a smile here, taunting though it was. "The second detail of this arrangement is… for the remainder of this week, there will be no _Boy_ -Who-Lived… No, it will be the _Girl_ -Who-Lived.  
  
"Lastly, your punishment, Potter. Don't you want to know what your _punishment_ will include, Potty?" Parkinson sneered. "No, I don't suppose that you would want to know what it was, if you already knew what it was, anyway—but, you don't know that, do you? I can see the curiosity _burning_ in your veins, Potter. So, I'll tell you, but only because it will make you _squirm_. First, I'll be giving you something that I've been researching for the past week. Did you know that the Muggles have some very  _interesting_ methods of inflicting pain? Well, we'll be going through a couple of those. Next, we'll be experimenting with the magical ways of torture. I'm an _expert_ in this field, Potter. I suggest that you get ready for some _serious_ pain…" Harry's breathing quickened at the details that flashed through his mind. _She couldn't really be an_ expert _, could she?_ "Last but certainly not least, we'll be exploring the fine arts of _pleasure_ —mixed with pain, of course. Because... what better than to rob the Boy-Who-Lived of his virginity? Moreover, without his consent? It's every _true_ Slytherin's dream, Potter."  
  
Harry shuddered at the way she talked. _Please, please,_ please _, don't let her do this to me._ Harry chanted in his mind, and small rivulets of tears beginning to flow down his cheeks. " _Why_ , Parkinson? _Why_ are you doing this to me?"  
  
Parkinson's face hardened, and she placed a finger under Harry's chin. "Potter, you've made _my_ Draco's life a living hell, from the first time that you were in Hogwarts. _That_ is why I'm doing this, Potter, because of last year. You went _too_ far, accidental though it was. Draco's _mother_ is a _veela_. Did you know that, Potter?" Harry shook his—or _her_ , rather—head rapidly, her eyes widening in recognition and sadness. "Well, she _was_ … before she committed _suicide_. Do you know why she committed suicide, Potter? No, I don't suppose you do." Harry choked back a sob, bowing her head in realisation of what she had done. "She did it because she was separated from her mate for too long. Veelas go insane if they are separated from their mates for too long. I bet you wish you hadn't now, don't you?"  
  
Harry nodded her head, biting her lower lip as she trained her eyes on the cold, stone floor. Her voice was soft and barely audible as she spoke, "I'm sorry…"  
  
"Tell that to Draco, Potter. Haven't you noticed that he hasn't been as terrible to you this year?" A smirk showed on Parkinson's face, as Harry lifted her face up. "Believe me, you'll get the chance." Harry's eyes widened at the implications of that statement. _She couldn't truly mean_ that _… Could she?_  
  
However, the leering grin on Parkinson's face and the wicked gleam in her eyes told Harry that she  _could_ , and she _did_. Harry shuddered, wondering what was going to happen to him— _her_.  
  
Suddenly, Parkinson was no longer in Harry's line of sight and she blinked, thinking to herself. _I can't have been hallucinating; after all, I_ am _still a girl—or rather, in a girl's_ body. I don't believe that I'm, literally, a girl, since I wasn't a girl yesterday—and I won't be a girl in a week from now. But, maybe I am _a girl, but only for this temporary time…_  
  
The brunette returned a moment later, cutting off the continuance of Harry's ramblings. However, the return wasn't exactly what Harry would call a _happy_ one because Parkinson was carrying in her hand a whip, a Cat O' Nine Tails to be exact; a whip, Harry noticed, that had nine whips that were woven together—and looked like it could be deadly. Harry licked her lips, a small, uncomfortable feeling building in the bottom of her stomach; she strained uneasily against the bonds, whining quietly.  
  
Parkinson sneered at her. "Don't worry, Potter; you'll get a small moment of release in a moment." She waved her hand at the cuffs, before she grabbed Harry by the arm, making sure that the raven-haired girl couldn't escape. Parkinson twisted Harry's arm around behind the 'Girl-Who-Lived's back. "No escape for you, Potter. It'll only get worse if you try," and with that, the brunette pushed Harry into the wall; one finger trailed down the small of Harry's back, tracing the girl's spine and causing small shivers to run up and down her body. The finger continued a downward path, slipping between the two mounds of flesh that held the quivering muscles in the sable-haired girl's arse. The digit continued in its speed, dipping lower into the dark-haired female's cunt. Harry gasped softly, pressing back onto the wandering finger; new, unexplained feelings burst through Harry, leaving the girl feeling breathless and frustrated from the sensations.  
  
Parkinson's free hand held her wand, which she waved in the standard swish-and-flick motion that Flitwick had taught them to do in their first year. Harry was startled when the bonds, which had fallen to the floor when Parkinson had spelled them off the first time, suddenly locked around her wrist and tighter than they had been the first time. The smirk was evident in Parkinson's voice as she said. "I hope you enjoy the ride, Potter. You're in for a long one", and then, the sound of skin slapping skin resounded throughout the room as Parkinson's palm struck Harry's feminine arse. Harry was shocked from the suddenness of it all—Parkinson's finger disappearing from her tingling cunt and the way that, within a millisecond of withdrawing, the finger's nail was digging into the skin of her ass.  
  
Chained against the wall, backwards now, Harry groaned from the coldness of it—this being-a-girl thing was beginning to annoy her—because it was causing her nipples to draw up into stiff, hard peaks. It didn't help the situation any that Parkinson was consistently pushing her against the wall, squashing her breasts against the wall. Parkinson, however, didn't seem to mind the situation at all—in fact, she seemed to be enjoying by the way that she ran unnaturally sharp fingernails down the curve of Harry's arse. "Ready for the whip, Potter?" Harry shook her head rapidly, but it was ignored. Instead, Parkinson's spoke again, malicious intent written in her voice. "Ah, but I _am_ , Potter. I am—and what I say goes, in these circumstances."  
  
The whip brushed fleetingly against the small of Harry's back—and Harry froze, going rigid with fear and trepidation; after nothing harsher came a few seconds later, Harry relaxed, thinking that Parkinson had decided to bail out. Then, there was a short whistling sound as the whip came flying down. Harry cried out in pain as the whip hit her back—and the tears followed soon afterwards. Harry heard Parkinson chuckle coldly. "Such pretty marks this whip leaves. I'm not sure that I can control myself..."  
  
Then, Harry felt the other girl's fingers, spread out in a fashion that made it able to touch both ends of the wide whip marks, brush over them. Harry sobbed quietly as the salt sunk into his wounds, and she hissed softly, saying something incomprehensible in Parseltongue.  
  
"Potter," the Slytherin girl murmured warningly in response to the Parseltongue, and the whip struck his skin—twice, this time—and then, a third. By that time, the lashes had started to build up a steady speed, and the tears were running, unchecked, down Harry's cheeks; the girl felt as though her back were being split open every time the whip touched her back. Harry could hear the brunette muttering something under her back, and just as the whip struck again, Harry could make out part of what she was saying: "Four—". _Four?_ Harry thought. _Was she_ counting _? If she is, that can't be right. Maybe it was fourteen? Yes, that must—_ Harry never finished her thought, because just at that moment, the whip struck her skin again. Harry screamed—the pain that she felt was agonizing, and Harry didn't know how much long she could take it.  
  
However, no more lashes seemed to be forthcoming and Harry furrowed her brow in thought. Thinking back on what Parkinson had said earlier, Harry heard her cold voice say again in his ear, ' _... Next, we'll be experimenting with the magical ways of torture. I'm an_ expert _in this field, Potter… I suggest that you get ready for some_ serious _pain..._ ' Harry shuddered; dread poured into her every being and goose bumps ran up and down her arms and legs. "Oh, just you wait, Potter... Your anticipation will drive you insane before I start on you—but, Merlin, how I want to cause your pain... Draco will be very pleased with me, Potter."  
  
Harry whimpered and waited for the onslaught of spells to come—and she waited—and she waited—and she waited a bit more until she could practically feel some of the things that Parkinson could do to her. Then, Harry felt the brunette move behind her, and Harry's muscles went taut with unease. "10 _flagellare_!"  
  
A new type of whip—Harry was sure that it was a new type because it neither hurt as badly as the Cat O' Nine Tails nor as many straps—smacked Harry's arse. Harry cried out in pain; however, Harry could feel a pleasurable tingle in his arse between the slaps of the whip. The movements of the whip are much different from before when Parkinson had been flogging his arse with the Cat O' Nine Tails, more— _professional_ , Harry thinks. Harry hissed softly as the whip was manoeuvred toward the front of her body and the tip of the strap stung her nipple. This happened four times—twice to each nipple—before the whipping stopped completely. The sable-haired female was terribly embarrassed by her reactions to the whipping; her nipples, which had hardened before from the coldness, were now painfully hard with her arousal.  
  
" _Exacuere_ wand!" Harry blanched slightly as he heard the voice from behind him. _Exacuere, Exacuere... Where have I heard that before?_ Then, the raven-haired girl tensed as a sharp point was pressed against the back of her shoulder—and Harry remembered... _Death Eaters. Screaming. Children crying... "_ Exacuere _wand._ Extenuare _wand!" Cold, terrifying laughter..._ Harry cried in fright and twisted in her imprisoning bonds, trying desperately to get away from the abuse that she knew was coming.  
  
Then, Harry could have sworn that a miracle had happened just then because a voice came from behind her, startling Parkinson; even though the sharp object slipped down her back, creating a long trail of blood, Harry was immensely relieved by the interruption—until she recognised the person behind the voice. "Stop, Pansy... I believe that it is now _my_ turn to jump and play a little game or so with  _Harriet_."  
  
Draco Malfoy had come out to play.


End file.
